


A penny saved

by Nival_Vixen



Series: Word of the day [22]
Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Awesome Sheriff Stilinski, Bad Cooking, Complete, Cooking, Derek Cooks, Derek Hale & Sheriff Stilinski Bonding, Derek Hale & Stiles Stilinski Friendship, Derek Takes Care Of Stiles, Derek Uses His Words, Derek and Stiles are Mates, Derek is a Softie, Financial Issues, Friends to Lovers, Hale Family Feels, M/M, Stiles Cooks, Stilinski Family Feels, money problems
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-07-04
Updated: 2014-07-04
Packaged: 2018-02-07 10:40:39
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,395
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1896021
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Nival_Vixen/pseuds/Nival_Vixen
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Stiles knows how much it cost for him to be in Eichen House, and tries to think of a way to save money. His brilliant idea? Cooking every single meal. Only, Stiles doesn't actually know how to cook.</p>
<p>Derek helps Stiles with cooking when he realises he misses him at the pack meetings. He eventually finds out about the Stilinski's financial problems and wants to help however he can.</p>
            </blockquote>





	A penny saved

**Author's Note:**

> Word of the day: prudence
> 
> ...
> 
> Spoilers for season 4, episode 2

Not long after Stiles sees the second notice on his father's desk at the station, bills for Eichen House, Stiles stops buying takeaway completely. John complains, mutters about health and burgers, but Stiles refuses to budge, and even steals his credit card from his wallet so he can't buy anything on the sly.

"We shouldn't even be using it, Dad. It's for emergencies only," Stiles adds.

"Curly fries are an emergency," John argues, hoping to get his son to agree or even smile at least, but Stiles just shakes his head.

"No, they're not. We're eating healthy, even if I have to cook every single night myself."

"That's all well and good, son, but you don't know how to cook. And while you can make a mean cheese toastie, I don't fancy the idea of eating those for the rest of my life," John points out.

This response makes Stiles become even more stubborn than before (John really didn't think that was possible), and he glowers, folding his arms over his chest.

"I'll learn; practice makes perfect, and all that. Now, get going to work, or you'll be late. I'll have dinner ready for when you come home."

John comes home to three cheese toasties. He eats them without saying a word, but he doesn't like his chances of eating a proper meal in the near future.

...

"Where's Stiles?" Derek asks Scott, frowning when he realises that Scott's about to start the pack meeting without Stiles in attendance.

"Stiles is trying to make his dad eat healthily, so he's taking a cooking class at the community college," Scott replies.

Derek nods and settles back down on the lounge. The rest of the meeting goes by fairly quickly without Stiles' usual commentary, sarcastic comments, and sometimes smart ideas.

Derek finds that he feels weird after the meeting; it just didn't feel _right_ without Stiles there, he realises. He spends a good fifteen minutes pacing after this realisation, then finally decides to go visit Stiles because he's a friend, and friends visit each other, right? Right.

He turns into Stiles' street before he realises that Stiles actually has other friends, and they've probably come to visit him. Then Derek worries that Stiles is still at the cooking class thing, and he actually has no way of finding out when it finishes without Scott interrogating him. He breathes a sigh of relief when he sees the Jeep sitting in the driveway, and pulls up beside it. Derek can hear Stiles swearing profusely inside the house, and he rushes out to the house without really thinking about it, opening the door and running towards the kitchen.

"Goddamn son of a bitch, that motherfucking hurts, you fucking shit of a fuckwad!"

Stiles is screaming at the stove, and Derek stops at the kitchen doorway because he's pretty sure he's never heard that string of swearwords from anyone before; even with Stiles' usual profanity.

"What're you looking at, sourwolf?" Stiles mutters, moving to the sink to run his burnt hand under cold running water.

"What are you cooking?" Derek asks, ignoring the barb; he can feel the wave of embarrassment washing off of Stiles easily enough and doesn't want to add to it.

"Trying to cook chicken burgers 'cause Dad's been moaning about burgers for two straight weeks now, and there's only so much I can take. Of course, there's only so much I can cook that actually comes out edible. The cooking class is supposed to help, but I swear, that man hates my guts. He belittles every single fucking thing I try to do, and so fucking what if it's not exactly what the recipe says?" Stiles mutters.

"Can I help?" Derek offers, hesitantly, and trying not to bruise Stiles' ego any more than it already is.

"Sure, if you don't mind me swearing at the appliances every now and then," Stiles says, shrugging.

(Stiles, as Derek soon finds out, manages to swear at _everything_ in the kitchen; even the utensils and chopping board. He shouldn't find it endearing, but Derek's pretty sure that Gordon Ramsay himself would be proud of Stiles.)

It takes a serious oil burn for Stiles to stop flailing about in the kitchen, and while Derek can't lie and say it doesn't hurt, he's extremely glad for his werewolf healing ability. _It really fucking hurt_.

"Fuck! I'm so sorry. I shouldn't have... I mean... I didn't... Ah, fuck. I'm so fucking useless! Can't even fix this disaster of a meal and I've fucking burnt you to the bone! Oh god, is that _actually_ your bone?" Stiles asks weakly, sounding nauseous.

Derek's pretty sure it is, but he shakes his head. "My skin's healing; it's nothing. Just calm down, okay? You're not being assessed on this, and it's not life or death."

"Easy for you to say, you're a millionaire," Stiles mutters, and Derek frowns, having no idea what the hell that's supposed to mean.

"Look, the chicken's already cut up, you just need to fry it; preferably with less oil in the pan. And yeah, the bread rolls are a fail, but you've got tortillas in the freezer and you've got all of these salad things sliced already, so why not just go for Mexican instead?" Derek suggests.

"Oh, fuck, you're a genius. And I'm seriously sorry about your arm. Is it okay? Do you need antiseptic or something?" Stiles worries, glancing at the arm that Derek's kept behind his back while it's healing.

Derek raises an eyebrow and shows Stiles his arm, the skin pink and a little tender, but at least it's there now.

"Thank fuck," Stiles moans in relief. "Uh, could you do me a favour and fry the chicken? I'm not sure I should be near the hot frying pan with oil right now," he admits.

Derek just nods and moves over to the stove to cook the chicken properly.

The Sheriff comes home just as Stiles serves up the warmed tortillas, and Derek takes the browned chicken out of the pan. John seems surprised to see both of them in the kitchen, but just shrugs off his jacket and heads to the dining table to see what's for dinner this time. (He's had nearly every variation of a cheese toastie possible for two straight weeks; John can handle cheese and toast, beans and toast, mince and toast, eggs and toast, but honestly? He's hoping like hell that there's no damn toast tonight.)

Derek lingers at the door until Stiles tugs him over to the dining table, rolling his eyes.

"You helped cook, you're eating with us, dude," Stiles mutters.

The Mexican food is an absolute hit, and both Stiles and John find that the company's not bad either. Derek feels relaxed for the first time in a long time around humans - these two already know he's a werewolf, so he doesn't have to hide that part of himself - and he finds himself telling stories from his childhood, sneezing abruptly when he was too young to have control and shifting in the middle of the supermarket with his father. The story makes Stiles and John laugh, and Derek feels good about himself as well.

Stiles invites Derek over for dinner the next night too, and John readily agrees. Surprising himself, so does Derek.

...

They continue like this for a month, Stiles slowly learning the intricacies of cooking and baking from Derek until he's confident and secure enough in his ability to cook while Derek stands back and watches. He quit the cooking classes two days after Derek started helping him, and Stiles can't care that he's _quit_ something, not when this is so much better. Besides, with Derek helping him, he's able to go back to pack meetings again, and even Stiles notices the sense of relief that goes through the others when he turns up, which is nice.

One night, while he's sautéing mushrooms and checking on the pasta boiling in the saucepan, Stiles admits that he's trying to save money so his dad can pay the bills from Eichen House. (If Finstock thinks getting an arrow pulled out of his body is expensive, he's obviously never spent a week in a mental institution.) Derek doesn't know what to say to that; doesn't think there is anything he can say without it sounding insincere, so he just nods in return, and keeps concentrating on the tomato based sauce they're making from scratch.

That night, Derek thinks about Stiles' situation, pacing his loft until the early hours of the morning. He doesn't try to offer money because he knows Stiles, and Derek knows that the offer won't be accepted or appreciated in any way, shape or form (Stiles will think it's a slight, or a charity case, and Derek won't offend him like that).

Instead, he does small things that he knows will be accepted. He arrives at the Stilinski house in the mornings to drive Stiles to school; buys the next load of groceries, telling Stiles he knows what's fresh and better for both him and the Sheriff; he fixes Stiles' Jeep when he can hear it puttering along the road ten minutes before Stiles arrives to the loft for the next meeting; he bakes bread rolls, telling Stiles that he needs to test them and then take them home for his father because they're gluten free and he'll never know. Derek suspects that Stiles knows what he's doing, his eyes narrowing with each offer, but he just agrees, gets in the car, takes the food, and hands Derek the appropriate tools as he asks for them.

The shit hits the fan when Derek asks Stiles to help him wash the loft windows, telling him that he'll pay by the hour, and Stiles kinds of loses it. (Derek doesn't know that he's had a fairly crappy day at school with two pop quizzes that he's sure he's failed, all four jobs he's applied to have rejected him, and he went to the station only to find his father eating a bag of fat-saturated chips from the vending machine.) So Stiles breaks at Derek's offer, yelling and ranting that he doesn't want his goddamn fucking money, and storms out of the loft. It takes Stiles a few minutes to get past his rage and start the Jeep's ignition without his hands trembling. He forces himself to breathe deeply, feeling close to passing out, and then drives home.

Stiles feels even worse when he gets home, hates that he's yelled at Derek, but he can't bring himself to apologise, and he's too fucking exhausted to even think about the chicken drumsticks he'd planned on using for dinner. Instead, Stiles drags himself upstairs, turns his phone off because he's so not willing to read the crappy apology his father's most likely sent, and falls into bed to sleep for a few hours straight.

When Stiles wakes up, he hears his father downstairs talking with Derek, and the moon is out. He makes a small groan, tempted to go right back to sleep, but he's still pissed at both of them, and Stiles goes downstairs to deal with whatever they're conspiring against him.

"You cooked?" Stiles asks Derek, still a little sleep-stupid, frowning at the bowls of stew sitting on the dining table.

"Thought you'd appreciate food after your sleep," Derek replies with a nod, nudging a bowl closer to Stiles.

"Chicken stew with extra vegetables, so I've been told. It's damn good, if I do say so myself," John says with a grin.

"Still not happy with you, old man. How many bags of chips have you been eating at work?" Stiles asks, glowering. (He pauses long enough to eat some of the stew, and yeah, it tastes fucking delicious, but he's still angry, dammit!)

"It was my ... third bag since you've started cooking, Stiles. I'll admit I was weak in the first two weeks, but honestly, I was a little tired of toast. Not that I'm complaining, mind you. You made it different every night, which is difficult, I know... Today was the first bag since the chicken tortillas, I promise."

"Why today?"

"Because it was Chloe's birthday and I was damn proud for not eating four slices of cake like I might've once. I had a thin slice, and then ate half of that bag of chips and felt guilty - even before you came in and found me eating them. I donated the other half of the bag to Parrish, but I swear, he was looking at me like I'd kicked a kitten. You've twisted all of my staff, kid, and now they're all going on about my diet."

"Yeah, well they should've stopped you from eating those chips too. I'm not going to see you through a heart attack, okay?!"

"I know, kid," John says, reaching over to pat his hand. "Now, while we're being open about things, how long have you known about the bills for Eichen House?"

Stiles gulps a few mouthfuls of stew, avoiding answering for as long as possible. Derek and John both just wait and stare him down (it's totally freaky to see them doing that), and Stiles sighs.

"About a week before I started all of this cooking. I figured if we stopped eating so much takeout, we'd be able afford a payment plan of some sort, at least, and you'd stop getting notices sent to your work," Stiles mutters.

"It's a good thought, kid, it really is. But I'm the father here, and I'm the one who should be worrying about money, not you, okay?"

"Oh, fucking hell, that's a load of bullshit, Dad! We've been looking after each other ever since Mum died, and I'd do anything to keep that sort of relationship with you! We don't work like other families, we both know that, and I'm not ashamed about it! Besides, I'm not going to just sit back on my ass and watch you get into debt because of something that happened to me. I should've been able to deal with it in my own head. I was warned about opening that fucking door, and I still opened the damn thing! I'm not apologising for a goddamn thing, and I don't regret it either!"

John sighs, sets his spoon down, and moves to pull Stiles into a hug. He clings to his father's shirt firmly, angry and relieved and feeling god knows what else as he hugs him in return.

"All right, then. I know you're growing up, but I still look at you like that kid that dressed up in a cape for a month and ran around trying to fight gravity," John mutters, shaking his head a bit. "But you're old enough to know and learn what this is like, so... Finish your dinner, and afterwards, we'll go over money, expenses, and make up a budget, okay? Just promise me one thing, kid?" he adds, looking down at the top of Stiles' head.

"What?" Stiles mumbles against his arm.

"Never make me toast again," John groans.

"God, all right. Shut up about the toast already," Stiles says, rolling his eyes as he pulls away.

John just grins back at him and ruffles his hair. Stiles slides back into his seat and starts eating his stew again.

"So... You tried to fight gravity?" Derek asks, smiling when Stiles scowls at him.

"I've got home videos," John says, chuckling when Stiles fixes him with a glare.

They start discussing Stiles' childhood (and teenage) fixation on Batman, and he decides that he's really just going to concentrate on his dinner instead of partaking in that damning conversation. He sticks out until Derek admits his own fascination with the Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtles, and how he'd dressed up as Michelangelo one Halloween (complete with his very own pizza box). John's laughing at the story of Laura dressing up as the rat Sensei and then bossing Derek around all night. Somewhere in all of it, Stiles finds Derek's hand and gives it a squeeze, trying to thank him and apologise all at once. By the look on Derek's face, it seems to have worked.

After dinner, Stiles grabs his laptop, and opens his guest account to organise the budget (there's a folder not-so-cleverly named porn on his regular login, and there's no way in hell that he's opening that account while his father and Derek are there; maybe just Derek a few months down the track though). Stiles is far more prone to prudence with money than his father, who deems the credit card necessary and is argued down by a werewolf and a teenager because borrowed money should never be necessary, except for emergencies.

Four hours, one spreadsheet, three arguments, and about a hundred monetary adjustments later, Stiles and John finally agree on what can be spent where. Derek's opinion is asked for by both men, and he adds in a small suggestion here and there to put money aside for unexpected health problems or repairs around the house, as well as a few dollars a week for a night off once a month. (The washing machine breaks down three months later, and they're both fucking glad for agreeing to the repairs money; they still have to use the credit card, but not for the whole lot, and that's a huge relief.)

Stiles takes Derek up on his window washing offer, and starts offering his services to neighbours, finding that cleaning's actually something he can do without too much hassle. So long as he doesn't trip over the bucket, it's easy to lose himself to the rhythm of cleaning and making things shine, and it's an easy job to do between all of the supernatural goings on in Beacon Hills. He pays rent (John hates that he does; he still thinks he should be able to afford his own mortgage without help from his son, but Stiles is old enough to pay for his own fuel, so he figures he can pay rent too), and still cooks dinner every night with Derek by his side.

The day the Eichen House bills are paid off, Stiles relents and uses the rainy day money to buy takeout for dinner. John barely makes it through half of his burger before he says it just doesn't taste the same without Stiles' special sauce (it's really not special, he just named it that way), and the curly fries taste weird fried instead of baked like he's used to now (and there's no roast carrots, what kind of meal is this?). Stiles is relieved, even though the money's kind of wasted on the meal, because he misses his own burger, carrots, and baked fries too. Derek eats the rest of their meals, but admits that it really isn't the same, and Stiles cooks up something quick for himself and his Dad instead.

John goes to bed early that night, claiming that he's tired; Stiles frowns after him, but figures he deserves the rest. Derek helps Stiles with the dishes, like he does every night, but tonight is different, a sort of electricity in the air as he backs Stiles up against the kitchen sink and kisses him. Stiles is surprised, but not stupid, and he holds Derek close, legs wrapping around his waist as he moves up to kiss him properly. He wants to drag Derek upstairs immediately, but he shakes his head.

"Not allowed in your bedroom for three months," Derek murmurs against his neck.

Which means Derek's discussed this with his father. _Oh, that's a little weird, but it's really not at the same time?_ They're all closer than they were a year ago, and Stiles can see Derek actually talking with his dad over this without it being so drastically awkward that he wants to crawl away in embarrassment. But still, he doesn't really know what to do with that information. Stiles drains the sink of water and pulls Derek out to the lounge room. He puts in a movie that he doesn't intend on watching, and sits himself in Derek's lap firmly. Stiles amuses himself by giving Derek hickeys and watching as they fade seconds later. Derek reciprocates, and Stiles discovers that he is the number one fan for Derek's mouth being _anywhere_ on his body. (Derek ties for first.)

...

The end.

Thanks for reading.


End file.
